


Of Grief

by Vidicon666



Series: Vows and Consequences [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 18:24:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2517443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vidicon666/pseuds/Vidicon666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various characters react to, and mourn, the death of Finrod Felagund</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the Silmarillion or any of the characters depicted in this story. It is set shortly after the death of Finrod, in Sauron's dungeon.

They sat together in the woods, two brothers, one tall and auburn haired, the other shorter, dark haired one. Rain was falling, hard, and heavy drops fell from the leaves onto the ground and the huddled cloaked figures. Their hoods were off and the rain mingled with the tears on their faces. The younger one’s shoulders shuddered as the spasms of regret and sorrow shook him. 

“Our fair cousin…”

“Makalaurë…”

“Is it worth it? Are they worth it Maïtimo?”

“Makalaurë…”

“I loved him! Do you remember that day in Nargothrond when that little girl asked me to play The Kingfisher in the Falls? Do you remember that day? You lifted a girl on your shoulders. And you smiled! You were happy.”

“Makalaurë, we swore an oath. And oath even the Valar can not release us from.”

“A stupid oath! A stupid oath that made our brothers betray our cousin! Brothers! “ He spat the word. “Traitors! Murderers! That is what we are Makalaurë!” We have no honour but the keeping of that oath, we are not welcome in Nargothrond. Never again will I play for children in that garden, never again will that little girl think of me with pleasure as she hears that song! What are we? We are puppets! We have made our selves instrument to the will of the Dark One!”

“Makalaurë!” The tears ran down the older man’s cheeks. “Makalaurë… I know.”


	2. Grief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thingol

Of sorrow and honor 

I remember how he first came to these halls. Not as a lord demanding, not as a supplicant at my gate, but as a kinsman, coming cheerfully to ask what he might do and I might do, each might do to help each other. He strode up the gates of Menegroth and ruffled the hair on the heads of the children playing beside the path. He sang to them and gave a little girl a ride on his horse when she asked. 

While he waited for us to receive him, he did not sit in the room before the hall, but walked around and spoke with my people, played hide and seek with the children in the caverns. I remember how he greeted my daughter, my beautiful daughter and I hoped that he was not interested for a man such as her might capture her heart easily.

I asked him why he was here, in Beleriand. And he told me that it was because of his people. I asked what he thought about the Silmarils, and he shrugged. “They are not as beautiful as the smile on a child’s face, or the love of a father for his daughter, or the passion of an elf and a Maia.” And then he had the gall to wink at us, Melian and me, and we both blushed, for we had lain together the nigh before and our hearts sang. 

And I knew then that I liked him, this Ingoldo, this Finrod. I told him of the caves of Nargothrond and he made a stronghold there, not one like his brothers and cousins, not full of warriors and swords or overfull of beauty, but a home, a place for children, and laughter and love. I heard how he met the Second born, and rejoiced. For they met one of the finest of our race, a heart full of wisdom and joy.

And now he lies dead on a hill in the wilderness, fulfilling an oath to aid a whelp who wishes to marry my daughter. That wise, gentle man with the laughing eyes who made the children laugh and teased my cook while they snuck berry cakes warm from the cooling room. I was standing by the door with Melian, and we each got one from the little ones who took them, in payment to keep us quiet. And as we ate them, smiling and realizing how well they tasted, just a little sauce on them because of the mischief with which they were gained.

He is gone because of a task I set, a task I set despite the love in my daughter’s heart. The notion of something as impossibly high as my daughter with something so low as that boy. I had forgotten that once we had talked about that, he and I. He showed me a book, written by his scribes, of a conversation he had had with a daughter of Men his brother had loved, of the deep sorrow within those covers. And we spoke of me, daring to aspire to love Melian.

And yet when the boy came before me, I refused to see what was before my eyes, the song I could hear in their hearts, and placed that task before them. 

And now I lie alone in my dressing room, for Melian will not have me in her bed, for her daughter has run away. And my friend of the blond hair and merry eyes is dead, because of me. If I ever see them again, I will not be so foolish again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Galadriel

Of the arms of my brother

I stand beside the waterfall. I love this waterfall. I love the chatter of its voice over the rocks. I love the way it cheerfully tells me the news of the lands it flows over. I love how it talks with the trees, as the trees gossip among each other. Trees gossip, many people would be surprised to hear. And they tell jokes, long gentle jokes about the coming of spring and the way the apples will blush in the autumn as they remember. Today, today they do not joke. They do not gossip. The rain falls, and the leaves, the branches, the trees cry. Their hearts, the very soul of the woodlands, are filled with sorrow. 

Today the waterfall does not chuckle, it weeps. I do not weep. The trees brought me the news. My last brother, my oldest brother, now dwells in the Halls of Mandos. Betrayed by his cousins. His people too frightened, too cowed to support him. To fulfill an oath of friendship, to help a couple who are in love. Ingoldo always was a romantic at heart. 

I remember when it was snowing in Valinor when I was a little girl, one night. My big brother, my beloved big brother woke me up in the middle of the night and held me in his arms and together we watched the snow fall, from under the portico of my parents’ house. The next morning we ambushed our brothers as they diffidently ventured out into the white forest. My wonderful brothers, Angaráto and Aihanaro. They were very annoyed. I remember how Ingoldo had taught me to make snowballs, and jump up and down on branches to make snow fall on the heads of those below. I remember how he taught me to ask permission from the trees before doing so. 

That was the first time a realized trees have a sense of humor, when they laughed when and helped me drop a huge load on someone walking below. How was I supposed to know it was grandfather Finwë? Mother and father were mortified. But the trees laughed, and so did grandfather. We played in the snow all day, Ingoldo and me, and sometimes the others would join us, even grandfather. Ingoldo took me sledding down the hill, his arms around me and I could see the lord Voronwë in the woods and he threw a snowball at us and winked at me while Ingoldo spluttered from the snow in his face. But Ingoldo laughed.

I remember one day I was frightened in the woods by the beautiful Lady, and he was there, taking me in his arms. He came running when he felt my fear, and I told him what I feared and he laughed. It was the only time he laughed at me like that. He took me and bowed to the Lady as she stood there with her attendants. And he asked if he could introduce me, because I was scared of her, and he did not want his little sister, his little Nerwen, to be afraid of anything. And the Lady laughed as well. I met Elbereth and she laughed, and ruffled my hair, and Ingoldo bowed to her and praised her beauty, kindness and wisdom. 

My parents were mortified again, but great-grand uncle Inwë, who was there, laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. I heard even the lord Manwë laughed about the lad who spoke to his Lady so his sister would not be afraid. When we were older, my parents told the tale with pride. I wonder how they feel, now that their laughing, wondrous, wise gentle, wild playful son is in the Halls of Mandos? I know how I feel. I am the last of my siblings on this side of the sea. I miss my brothers Angaráto and Aihanaro. I miss their laughter and their strength, the way they joked together and, yes, the way they teased me. But I miss Ingoldo the most, he was always my favourite and I was his. I smile as I remember the time he was not.

Father caught me and Celeborn, kissing under a tree. He was quite angry, thought him unworthy of me. And Ingoldo, he agreed with him! Celeborn was not good enough for his little sister! I hated him that day, for betraying me. I still hear how they discussed it, in the study. I hear Ingoldo’s telling my father that he thought it was a passing phase; that I would get over Celeborn if I were allowed to meet him openly. That Celeborn was only after the fame, the glory and the wealth of the house of Finwë. I hated him, for I loved Celeborn and knew his heart. But I persevered in demanding to see him and Ingoldo became our chaperone, convincing our father he would dissuade me from anything foolish. He treated Celeborn with utter disdain, me like a love sick calf. I hated him, and we did everything we could to escape his watchful eye, set him up with pretty maidens and master craftsmen and wonderful books and great harpists. And we were very pleased, for he proved easily distracted, and the craftsmen of the Teleri taught him many secrets.

And then he told father we should marry, for we were well matched in temperament and our hearts sang together. We had been so busy leading him by the nose we had missed that ourselves. And at my wedding, we danced, and he held me in his arms and he told me he knew I would be happy, I need not fear.

And then, many years later, long after I had forgiven him for his behaviour, we sat by this waterfall, the three of us, and I asked him why he was not married. And he smiled sadly, but his eyes were full of love and wonder and I listened to his heart and I realized there was not one song, but two, in harmony, an old song, a beautiful one. And I could hardly remember his heart singing anything else. And he told me he loved a lady, a Vanyarin lady called Amarië and that he had for many years, longer than I had loved Celeborn. And that her father was opposed to the marriage. And so we spoke of other things.

That night Celeborn and I spoke of this, and we realized that he had not been distracted by the maidens. Ingoldo would never be distracted that way if he had a lady who knew, and owned his heart. And then that he had learned many skills from the Teleri that they had been unwilling to teach him before, until Lord Celeborn asked them to. Skills he had wanted to know.

And then I remembered who had shown me the hiding place behind the tapestry where you could overhear what father was saying in his study. And how Ingoldo led him there, from the Library, to discuss a private matter. 

And we agreed, mortified, that it had been rather too easy to get away from him even at other times. And later, when I saw that no one knew sooner that two hearts were singing in harmony than my brother I knew he had not been keeping us apart, but bringing us together. I never thanked him, for the sacrifice he made, letting me hate him, no matter how much it must have hurt him. And I blush a little, and I know my husband groans, every time we realize that all the occasions we thought we were alone, he was probably quite aware of what we were doing, and where. I do so now, despite myself, and smile a little again.

I remember the last time we met, how here, by the waterfall; he put his arms around me. I felt safe, not safe and sheltered as I felt in the arms of my father, not safe and comfortable or passionate as I do in the arms of my husband, but safe and slightly mischievous, safe in the arms of my brother.

They buried him on top of a hill, covered those strong arms with rocks, those strong legs, that strong back and shoulders. I remember how he swung me on those shoulders, ran beside me on those strong legs, pushed my swing with those strong arms, held me in them when I fell and cried. I wonder of his Vanyarin lady now lies in the arms of my brother? None of us is more worthy of a quick return from the Halls of Mandos than Ingoldo.

I stand by the waterfall and Celeborn wraps his arms around me. He says nothing, but I can feel him grieve, not because I grieve, but because his friend, his companion, his brother is dead. I turn in the arms of my husband and bury my face in his shoulder and cry for the arms of my brother.


	4. Grief of Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beren

Of guilt 

I bore his ring upon my finger when I asked for his help and he came with me, knowing full well that he might not return. I asked him if it was because of his oath, but he laughed and shook his hair out of his eyes. And then he winked at me. “I have always been a romantic at heart.”

I still hear his words. He brought ten of his great knights, but the sons of Faenör whom he had succoured, they cowed the others. I wonder how they feel now? Those cousins? And the people who betrayed him? 

I look at Luthién as she stands beside me. We could not carry him from the dungeon of Sauron. His body was too heavy and the wolf was on top of it, and we were tired and he told us to flee. No dead body was worth the risk. And so we fled. And my friend’s body will be mangled by the Enemy, and he will be reborn from the Halls of Mandos. But maybe his lady will be waiting for him when he walks out. We are raising this cairn so we may tell his people we buried him, that his body was not defiled. I asked him about that. “What will we tell your people, your sister?”

And he looked at me from his ravaged face and smiled from his torn lips and there was still that twinkle of mischief in his eyes and he said: “Lie.” And then he closed his eyes and we fled.

I am alive and he is dead and I feel as if an age of the world has passed. I never met him until I walked up to his throne that day, and brashly asked, nay demanded his aid, to keep him to his word. And after he had officially accepted he poured me a goblet of wine and I asked him why he did so. And he shrugged and smiled that crooked smile that touched his eyes into blue fire. “Because I can feel little Luthién’s heart in yours and would have her be happy.”

And I knew that he would not have aided me had he not felt that. And I knew that if anyone could help us get through it would be him. Luthién cries, for she remembers how he danced with her and three little girls, how he charmed her mother and made her father laugh. I came to demand aid and got a friend. And I stand by his empty grave with my arms around the woman I love and we weep for the only man who was good enough to help us.


End file.
